


Bloodlust

by NoodleBuddy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fuck the Canon, Joffrey Is A Cunt, Past Abuse, Poor Sansa, Starks are alive!, Vampire!Sandor, and unfortunately don't appear much here, bodyguard!Sandor, but in all seriousness george rr martin is a genius, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoodleBuddy/pseuds/NoodleBuddy
Summary: He saw her, and he wanted. But she was his boss's girlfriend, so he kept quiet. Still, he watched, and enjoyed her flitting about the blonde cunt, saying her sweet words and chirping her little courtesies.It wasn't until a year after she'd been dating Joffrey that he did more.





	1. Occurence

He saw her, and he wanted. But she was his boss's girlfriend, so he kept quiet. Still, he watched, and enjoyed her flitting about the blonde cunt, saying her sweet words and chirping her little courtesies. One time, he'd caught her singing quietly while Joffrey was off getting drinks for her in some fancy restaurant. She'd jumped when he caught her and started chirping some of her courtesies at him. He found he didn't like it, so he'd snarled something at her and left the private room Joffrey had rented.

After that, she had avoided his gaze- more than usual anyway. Not that he didn't understand. Not every boyfriend came with his own bodyguard. Particularly one as monstrous as Sandor. Still, he couldn't help but resent the girl for it, and as a result, he made a point to sharpen his eyes whenever hers fell on him. She would flinch and look away, and he, in turn, would cross his arms and look away from her.

It wasn't until a year after she'd been dating Joffrey that he did more.

"What the fuck happened here?" he barked. The girl was bleeding from her mouth and nose. Her dress was torn from the waist up, leaving her milky white teats on display. Joffrey was holding a candlestick. All three of them were at Joffrey's apartment.

"She provoked me!" Joffrey shrieked, jabbing an accusatory finger at Sansa, who had fallen to the ground. "She disrespected me! In front of my grandfather! The little bitch has to pay!" He lunged toward the girl again, held back only by Sandor's arm, hooked around the boy's waist. He hauled the boy bodily over his shoulder, where he kicked and wailed like a child.

"That's enough!" Sandor shouted over the ruckus. The girl, Sansa, just sat there, staring at them, clutching her bleeding mouth.

"Unhand me, Dog!" Joffrey shrieked. "Or I'll have you fired!"

Sandor set the boy down, where he straightened his shirt indignantly and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't m-mean to," Sansa sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Don't you dare say another word, bitch," Joffrey growled. "Hound! Take my betrothed to the hospital, now. And if anyone asks what happened, say she fell down the stairs like the stupid cunt she is."

Sandor glared at the small, blonde tyrant before him, astounded. Who in their right fucking minds beats on their own fiancee and then has someone else clean it up for them? A Lannister, that's who, he thought bitterly.

"Well?!" Joffrey said, his voice nearing hysterics. Sandor shrugged, then turned his mind to the task at hand. Best not to think about it too clearly. Best to just get the job done, then drown himself in wine later. He neared the girl's sobbing, bleeding form, removed his black leather jacket, and draped it over her naked shoulders.

"Come on, girl. You're alright. Get up," he told her. She obeyed and wrapped his jacket more firmly around herself, in the process taking her hands away from her mouth, which spurted a quick stream of blood as soon as the opportunity arose. Sandor caught a whiff of her blood, and had to grit his teeth and swallow hard. Not now, he told himself. He gestured for her to follow him, which she did all the way to his car before she froze and looked up at him fearfully. He felt a twinge of irritation.

"If I was going to hurt you, girl, I would have done it the instant Joffrey gave you to me. Get in the fucking car," he rasped harshly. She didn't move.

"W-what's going to happen to me?" she mumbled pitifully. He clenched his hands into fists. Why in hells did she expect him to have the answers? And why in the love of fuck hadn't she defended herself against the tantrum throwing lion cub upstairs? She could have. She should have. This whole mess was her fault, so what right did she have to try and gain pity from him? He ground his teeth together and vowed to himself that her tricks wouldn't work, though in truth, they already had.

"That's up to you, isn't it?" he growled. She remained where she was, bloody and in his jacket.

"Am I going to the hospital?"

"If you want," he replied.

"I don't want to go," she said.

"Where to then?"

"I don't care. Just... not there," She shuffled uncomfortably, staring at her feet. He noticed more bruises as his eyes trailed up and down her body. One in particular in the shape of harsh fingers around her wrist, creating a gruesome, purple guantlet on her arm. That one was old, at least a day or two old. How long had this been going on?

"Will you get in now?" he demanded.


	2. Nerve

Sandor drove half an hour before realizing he had no idea where he was heading.

His truck shuddered and shook with every bump, jostling the girl within. He'd managed to pick out a few napkins earlier, which she'd shoved as daintily as she could up each nostril to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, outside a few bruises on her wrists and stomach, plus her bloody nose, she didn't seem to be seriously injured, (not that he had really gotten a chance to check.) Her mouth, which she almost exclusively used to bother him before, was kept shut in a tight line. This should have been a relief, but somehow, it irritated him more than her chirping ever had. 

"Where did you want to go, again?" he grunted at her. She didn't even look at him. He gritted his teeth. "I don't have enough gas to keep drivin' all night, girl. Make a choice."

She looked up at him with tired, despairing eyes that were a haunting sapphire blue. She didn't say a word. He narrowed his own eyes and turned into the nearest alleyway he saw, slamming on the breaks. Sansa jerked forward, clutching his jacket to her bare chest, fear leaking into her eyes. He didn't care. He turned off the motor and crossed his arms defiantly. Fuck that silent treatment bullshit she was giving him. He wasn't the one who had beat her to a pulp. _He_ was trying to help her. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, seemingly unable to find words.

"Why... why are we here?" she croaked out, finally.

"If you're not going to tell me where to go, you can get out here," he replied gruffly. That should get her to talk to him. He smirked a little to himself, knowing he'd won.

"Oh..." she replied. She looked on the brink of tears. He felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe he shouldn't have pressed her... "Okay," she told him, and moved to get out of the truck. A brief flash of panic overtook him. His hand shot out, seemingly of its own volition, and caught her by the elbow, jerking her exit to a stop. 

"What? Wait! I didn't mean it. Get back inside."

She looked at him with glazed eyes, but obligingly returned to her seat. 

"Honestly, girl, you can't just wander out there in nothin' but a man's jacket and a flimsy pair of shorts and expect nothin' to happen! Are you trying to get yourself raped, ya daft child?" Sandor barked. Sansa stared blankly at her knees.

"Your chivalry is appreciated, Sir, but it's obvious you don't want me here. Please, let me take my leave," she told him, ever courteous. "Besides, it isn't as though I have anything valuable left of me. Being raped wouldn't deprive me of much," she added as an afterthought. Sandor swallowed.

"Joff hasn't... y'know," he gestured to her body, uncomfortable with asking. She gave him another look with her eerie blue eyes. Tears welled up, but didn't fall. 

"What do you think?"

Sandor clenched his hands into fists. He had found her with a shredded top and Joffrey looming over her. Old bruises bloomed on her skin. He should have guessed. He took a deep, controlled breath, then let it out again, mentally envisioning his reemerging murderous intent being expelled with it. Of all people, Sansa Stark should not- _would not_ be the one to force him to break his 30 year fast. He wouldn't allow it. He kept his cool.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. Then, in a fit of stupidity, he asked, "How long?"

 _stupid, Stupid, STUPID!_ his mind cursed at him. Her bottom lip trembled.

"I don't know! Six months? Seven? Does it matter how many times he... forced himself on me? Does it matter how many times he had Meryn beat me with that bloody poker? Does it matter how many times he made me lie to my parents, how many times he shamed me, how many times he cut my skin or bruised my flesh? Why does it matter to you, _**Hound**_?" She growled his moniker like a curse. He felt cursed. Soon, however, the fire in her eyes faded, and she shrunk back into herself. Sandor could practically see icy walls rising up, shielding her battered soul in the way she couldn't shield her body.

 _He_ could shield her body, the insidious worm in his head told him. He quietly thought that old worm could go fuck itself, (along with Meryn Trant, Joffrey, and all the other Lannister cunts who'd hired him,) with a 9 foot, rusted iron dildo from hell. He wouldn't break his fast. He wouldn't. He would take her home, back to her parents, and run from the Lannisters with all his might. Empty his bank account and flee to Essos. Now _that_ was a plan he could live with. Amidst his raging thoughts, he almost missed the quiet, sad chirp from the seat adjacent to him.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong to snap like that, Sir."

With that, Sandor lost it. In the blink of an eye, he shifted gears and stepped on the gas, wrenching them harshly out of the alley and down the road. Sansa squeaked. He knew what he had to do.

"I've got a plan," he growled. "And you should call me Sandor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rrg, I suck at writing! All flaws are my own. Still, hope you're enjoying my all-over-the-place plot! Ps: Comments give me great joy.

**Author's Note:**

> My first SanSan! Unbeta'd, so any constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
